


Sina High

by Otaku67



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Football, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Childhood Friends, F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 09:34:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1423519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otaku67/pseuds/Otaku67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High school AU where the soldiers are students at a high school called Sina High. Follows the love lives of multiple students, and even a few teachers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jean/Marco: Detention

Detention: meant to be a form of punishment dealt out by frustrated teachers, but converted into a time for the juvenile delinquents of the school to hang out away from home. While there were always newbies in the group- kids that had accidentally showed up after the bell one time too many, kids that were having a bad day and mouthed off to teachers- one batch of particularly rowdy students always found themselves spending their evenings in detention. Jean Kirschstein was one of those kids. Currently, as always, he was lounging at his usual seat, boot-clad feet propped up on the desk and leaning dangerously far back in his seat.

“What’re _you_ in for today, Kirschstein? Get in another fight with Jaeger?” one of his peers inquired, sitting backwards in his seat while the rest of their group shared the felonies that landed them in this classroom. Jean’s casual expression melted, and he glanced away. His “crime” was so puny compared to the pranks his companions had pulled… But he wasn’t one to put on a fake tough guy act.

“…forgot to do my homework,” he coughed into his fist. His face glowed as his friends erupted into laughter, pointing at him mockingly.

“Aw, man, _that’s it?_ Dude, that’s such a grade school thing!”

“Well maybe _your_ grade school was just lame! Maria Elementary was pretty badass…” Jean defended meekly. “So the teacher’s out today, huh? Which means we get a sub,” he quickly changed the subject. “Man, I hope it’s one of those new hot young teachers.” He grinned, just imagining the scenarios that could go down if an inexperienced, 20-some-year-old female teacher was left in charge of these boys.

“Says the one who’s-”

The snarky comment of Jean’s friend was cut short when the door to the classroom swung open and a student stepped inside. He was slightly taller than average height, had a head of slick black hair and face full of freckles, and was, for lack of a better description, quite cute. Marco Bodt was his name, and everyone knew him; especially Jean, and seeing Marco here made his jaw drop. He swung himself upright and strode over to the taller boy. “ _Marco?!_ The hell are _you_ doing here? And late, nonetheless?” A grin found its way onto his face and he crossed his arms. “Have I finally turned you away from the life of good?”

Marco just gave a slight tilt to his head, wearing his usually friendly smile. “Since our teacher is out today, I’m in charge of detention this evening.” A series of groans and assorted rude comments rung out throughout the room; Marco’s smile never faltered. Instead, he took a seat on the desk at the front of the room and crossed his ankles, leaning back comfortably.

“Geez, we knew you were teachers’ pet, but now you’re her watchdog too?” someone called from the back of the room. This was followed by an echo of “Yeah, teachers’ pet!” Nevertheless, Marco remained unfazed. He knew his reputation, and he accepted it. In fact, the person that taught him to be proud of who his title was none other than Jean Kirschstein himself, who was actually displaying more of a reaction to the name calling than Marco was. After all, he had quite the soft spot for the freckled boy…. Although, he wasn’t particularly looking forward to sitting at a desk silently twiddling his thumbs for an hour. Swallowing a smirk, he slipped back to his groupie for a moment.

“Hey, he may be the teachers’ pet, but I know how to make this watchdog do a few tricks,” he whispered with a wink. He turned on his heels and swaggered back over to Marco, sitting himself beside him on the desk. 

“Please go back to your seat, Mr. Kirschstein,” Marco offered, his pleasant expression still unchanging. Jean furrowed his eyebrows.

“’Mr. Kirschstein,’ eh? C’mon, don’t be so _formal.”_ Wolf whistles sounded from the now quiet classroom as Jean flirtatiously trailed a finger down Marco’s chest.

Marco gulped, his smile twitching. “I’m only doing my job. Now please, go back to your seat…” His voice was beginning to reveal his gradually building frustration.

Jean’s arm wound its way around Marco’s waist. “The teacher’s not around… We’ll tell her you did a _great_ job monitoring us. Loosen up,” Jean offered, leaning his head into the crook of Marco’s neck. His smile had finally faltered, and a blush seeped its way across his freckled cheeks.

“Jean, please knock it off… Everyone’s watching-!” Marco gasped as Jean began to kiss at his neck.

“Well they can look away. “

As Jean scooted closer and began to lean in to kiss Marco’s lips, he was suddenly met with a hand in his face. “I can report you,” Marco snapped, though his voice was wavering in embarrassment. Jean sat back, putting on a pout.

“Aw, you wouldn’t report your _own boyfriend…”_

Lots of smirks and murmurs and short laughter came from that statement. It had been over a month since Jean Kirschstein, a troublesome boy known for picking fights in the courtyard, asked out Marco Bodt, the friendly honor student voted most likely to succeed. Nobody had seen the relationship coming except a handful of their mutual friends (Connie Springer and Sasha Braus had been rooting for them from day 1), and nobody had been more shocked than Marco himself. He found himself oddly attracted to the lazy, yet dedicated teen, and the two had been openly falling in love ever since.

But that didn’t mean he was willing to make a scene in front of a classroom of their peers, let alone a classroom of their _delinquent_ peers that Marco had been assigned to monitor.

“Yes, I _would,”_ Marco insisted. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was trying his best to sound fierce, but in the end, he more so resembled a toddler about to throw a temper tantrum. He hopped off the desk and walked around it (ignoring Jean’s comment of ‘You’re so adorable when you’re angry’) in order to reach the chalkboard at the front of the room. He grabbed a piece of chalk and neatly printed a “J” in the top corner of the board.

Jean groaned, following after him and draping his arms around his waist from behind. “You’re making me so _upset.”_

Marco wrote an “E.”

 “You’re such an AWFUL boyfriend,” Jean whined, pressing his cheek between Marco’s shoulder blades.

Marco wrote an “A.”

“If you’re gonna be so _mean,_ maybe I’ll just have to break up with you.”

Marco froze as he pressed the tip of chalk against the board, preparing to write an “N.” He sighed heavily and erased what he had written, practically slamming the eraser back down on the ledge before regaining his place on the desktop and sitting cross-legged. A few people applauded; Jean smirked lightly and sat beside Marco, leaning his head on his shoulder. Marco stared straight ahead, trying to ignore Jean’s presence. “Good puppy,” Jean said against Marco’s ear. Then he stole a quick kiss on the lips from him, making his face glow once more.

“Puppy? That’s too cutesy, y’mean _dog,”_ someone called from the front of the room.

“Naw, man, puppy’s pretty accurate. Goody-two-shoes little Marcy wouldn’t hurt a fly,” someone else chimed in.

“You’re both wrong! I think what Kirschstein meant is that Bodt’s his _bitch.”_

The classroom erupted with a chorus of “OHHHHH!” and Marco’s face turned even redder. Everyone provided their own comments, but everyone made sure to say “Bodt is Kirschstein’s bitch!” somewhere. The teasing smirk had faded from Jean’s face and was replaced with a hard glare.

“Don’t call Marco that,” he shouted above the commotion.

“Why not? It’s true. ‘Sides, you’re the one who started it!” retorted the person that had said it first.

Jean got to his feet. “All I did was call him a _puppy!_ Y’know, like a _pet name?_ Couples do that with each other!”he spat.

The person had stood up as well, and was casually striding over to get in Jean’s face. “It ain’t like he _isn’t_ your bitch. The guy’s spineless, why else would you be dating him?” they reasoned.

“Um, because I’m _in love with him?!”_ Jean answered, grabbing the person by the collar of their shirt. They remained unfazed; amused, if anything.

“Bullshit. What’s a guy like you see in a faggot like him?”

“Watch your mouth, douche bag,” Jean growled. “Case you haven’t noticed, I’m gay too.”

The person rolled their eyes. “I’m not calling him a fag ‘cause he’s _gay,_ I’m calling him a fag ‘cause he’s a _loser._ A dork. _”_

“Shut the _fuck_ up! You wanna know what it is I see in Marco?!” Jean hissed. “For one, he’s just plain good looking. Probably the best looking guy in the _school._ But he’s also an amazing guy. His IQ’s probably higher than all of you dumbass’ combined, he’s got a charming-as-hell personality, and for whatever reason, he loves an asshole like me. So don’t you _dare_ say _one damn bad thing_ about Marco Bodt, or I swear I’m gonna kill you.”

“So what you’re saying is you ain’t so tough; you’re a sentimental queer, just like your bitch.”

Jean was now shaking with rage, his face red and teeth clenched. “You don’t know shit about love, do you? Because nobody’s dumb enough to give a piece of shit like you a second _glance._ You’ve never had a real relationship, have you?”

That seemed to nip at the guy’s nerves. “For your information, I nailed the _entire_ cheerleading squad.”

“First of all, not Mikasa Ackerman. _Nobody’s_ nailed Mikasa Ackerman. Been there, tried that. Second, how long did those last? A week? A day? A few hours? So don’t you talk to me,” he jabbed his chest with his pointer finger, “about _love_ until you’ve pulled your head out of your ass long enough to experience it yourself.”

The room got silent after that. Marco had stood and tried to pull Jean away before a fight broke out, but now he stood frozen, newfound respect and affection for his boyfriend pulsing throughout his body. Jean was breathing heavily, his finger still pressed hard against his “friend’s” chest… Then suddenly fists were flying- nobody knew who threw the first punch- and all but about 5 students that had been pretty soft-spoken about this whole thing were after Jean, though they really only succeeded in hurting each other.

“I’m calling the principal,” Marco breathed amongst the chaos, bolting over to the phone and dialing the office. Soon enough, Principal Erwin was standing in the doorway. His very presence was enough to make the whole room fall silent. “That boy,” Marco pointed at the person that had started this all, “assaulted Jean Kirschstein, and a fight soon broke out,” Marco explained calmly. Principal Erwin nodded curtly, his sharp blue eyes staring menacingly at the classroom.

“Thank you, Mr. Bodt.” Erwin smiled briefly at the freckled boy. “Everyone involved in this fight, come with me,” he instructed, returning to his serious, naturally intimidating demeanor demeanor. Nobody had the guts to oppose him, and soon the classroom was empty except for the few uninvolved students, Marco, and Jean.

“Damn it Marco, you scared me! I thought you were gonna have him take _me_ away too,” Jean exclaimed, furrowing his eyebrows. Marco flashed him his usual smile.

“Why would I? You were the victim. Besides, you were only defending me… …that was very sweet of you.” He gazed down at Jean for a moment, but then recalled they weren’t alone. He turned and called over his shoulder, “You can all go home. Just don’t tell anyone, please.” Once they were finally alone, Marco closed the slight gap between them and gave Jean a gentle kiss. A tiny, sincere smile found its way onto Jean’s face.

“C’mon… We should head home, too,” he offered. Marco nodded his agreement and entwined his fingers with Jean’s.

It was silent between them as they walked down the halls, swinging their hands slightly. Suddenly, Jean paused and faced his boyfriend. “I really love you, Marco.”

Marco blinked, then smiled softly. “Thank you… I really love you too.”

“For a genius, you sure are a dumbass,” Jean mumbled, glancing away. Marco only smiled brighter.

“Oh, I don’t think so! There are _plenty_ of reasonable things to love about you.” When Jean’s eyes drifted back to Marco’s face, giving him a hopeful expression, Marco shook his head and planted a quick kiss against Jean’s cheek. “I don’t think I need to list them. All that matters is that I love you, right?”

It was quiet for a brief moment as Jean was rendered speechless. “…Marco…” He then grabbed Marco by the front of his shirt and pulled him down, closing his eyes and passionately pressing their lips together. Marco quickly returned the motion, though more gently, and wrapped his arms around Jean’s waist. Jean led him backwards so that his back was pressed against a wall of lockers. When they broke away for air, their eyes met, gold staring into brown. “When we graduate from high school,” Jean began, their faces so close that his breath tickled Marco’s lips with every word, “I want us to get married.”

Marco’s legs turned to jelly and his heart skipped a beat as he digested Jean’s words, his smile faltering. “…that’s quite a few years away…” His eyes widened as he realized it may have sounded like he was rejecting Jean’s request, but Jean didn’t see to take it that way.

“Only 3, not even,” he reasoned, his expression remaining serious and determined. Marco was gradually beginning to smile.

“I’d like to go to college…”

Jean shrugged. “Cool, I’ll find an apartment nearby.”

“You’re so determined,” Marco chuckled, shaking his head fondly. “And I love it. Yes, Jean, I will marry you… One day.” He brought his palm against Jean’s cheek, caressing it, holding his face in his hand. Jean leaned into his touch and smiled ever-so-slightly. He had so many things to say; but he was so relieved that Marco had accepted his sloppy, abrupt, unofficial proposal, that he didn’t want to end up saying the _wrong_ thing and ruining the perfect moment. So he just brought their lips together again, and Marco immediately pressed his free hand against Jean’s other cheek.

Just as they had last time, they didn’t pull away until they desperately needed to breathe. This time, however, they immediately dove back in, adjusting their heads this way and that, applying varying amounts of pressure and ranging from quick pecks to lengthy kisses. At one point, Jean teasingly undid the top few buttons of Marco’s blazer, then slid his hand under the uniform and up his waist. Marco shivered at his touch, but didn’t protest; simply continued to kiss him. Only when Jean leaned him a little harder against the lockers, sliding his knee between his legs, did Marco comment. “J-Jean-!” he gasped, not necessarily in a bad way. “What if someone walks by…”

“Hn, you’re right.” Jean removed his hand from under Marco’s shirt and his knee from its provocative position. “Let’s go to my place and take this further,” he whispered into his ear, resulting in a slight pleasurable shiver in Marco.

“I don’t know, that’s a rather dastardly act…” Marco was smiling despite his words, a dash of teasing to his tone.

Jean nipped his ear. “Well then I guess it’s your job to punish me.”

Marco’s smile only widened. He pecked Jean’s lips. “In that case, come with me, Mr. Kirschstein.”


	2. Eren/Armin: Perfect Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren and Armin are childhood friends that have gotten involved in separate crowds as the year past, yet still find themselves attracted to each other.

“Mikasa… I need your help with something.”

It was common knowledge around Sina High that Armin Arlert and Eren Jaeger had feelings for each other. Armin had let it slip that he had a crush on Eren to the wrong friend (no names mentioned, but, _Jean Kirschstein)_ and the rumor spread like wildfire around the small high school. When word reached Eren himself, and he was asked if the love was unrequited, he paused before answering, “Well, no. I think we’ve liked each other for a while.” That news rebounded back along the line of gossip, and soon the next question was, “Are you two _dating?”_ to which the answer was, regrettably, no. After all, they hardly even saw each other, what with their immensely different academic paths.

Although neither of them verbalized it, both of them secretly wished for that to change. Eren was the one to take action.

Mikasa, Eren’s adoptive sister, just looked up at him from the homework she was working on. Eren had his out as well, but he hadn’t made any progress on it, for he was staring absently at nothing, lost in thought. Now, however, he had quite the focused look in his greenish-blue eyes as he aimed his gaze at Mikasa. “You’re a girl, you’re better with these things… Where would be a good place to take Armin on a date?”

Mikasa’s eyes widened slightly. She, being closer to Eren than anyone, was naturally aware of their subtle “relationship;” not to mention she’d known both boys since they were 10, and always had a feeling that there was something more hiding between them. “…I don’t know.”

Eren groaned, leaning back in his chair. “Please…. We’ve never been on a date before, and if we’re gonna do this boyfriend thing, we need to start spending time with each other again. On _dates._ ”

Funny, how when they were kids, they’d naturally never been on a date, yet still spent plenty of time together and had quite the chemistry. But Mikasa wasn’t about to point that out. “Text him about it.”

“And say what? ‘I like you a lot but I’m too uncreative to figure out a special place to take you on a date, so tell me where you’d like to go’?”

“…the library,” Mikasa offered after staring at her adopted brother for a few seconds. Now that she said it, she was honestly surprised he hadn’t thought of it himself. Armin loved books…

First Eren’s eyes widened, then an almost childish grin lit up his face. “Yes, that’s perfect! He’d love that…” Suddenly, the smile faded as quickly as it had appeared. “Wait, but then we won’t be able to talk… Not above a whisper or without getting kicked out.”

Well then that was out. “….the ocean,” Mikasa suggested next. This time, Eren tilted his head and thought about that. He knew the perfect little slice of beach that was nearly always empty… It was a romantic setting, and he knew Armin had a love for the ocean almost as big as his love for books… His youthful grin returned.

“That’s genius, Mikasa! It’s a wonder you don’t have a boyfriend,” he exclaimed.

Mikasa just returned to her homework. “I don’t need a boyfriend,” she said quietly.

“Then, a girlfriend,” Eren said without really thinking, since he was more preoccupied with taking out his phone and texting Armin about these plans he (well, technically, Mikasa) made. Mikasa fell silent then, not even bothering to protest, and that was the end of that.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Eren made sure to arrive at the beach 10 minutes before their designated time in case Armin came early. They had bumped into each other in the hallway and exchanged a brief “Hey” and smiles, but other than that, they hadn’t spoken all day, let alone plan out this evening. So, it could go any way. Eren found himself pacing anxiously after waiting for a mere three minutes; what if Armin didn’t show up? He had planned this date so abruptly, with little thought behind it… Plus, they weren’t even officially boyfriends. Did he have more confidence in Armin’s feelings about him than he should? Armin wasn’t _always_ one to cave under pressure, but perhaps in this instance, he had lied when approached about his feelings for Eren…

All his worrying proved fruitless when Armin showed up exactly on time, dressed similarly to Eren: shorts and a nice tank top, with a new pair of sandals. “Armin-!” Realizing he sounded more relieved and surprised than he should, Eren took a deep breath and put on a smile. “Armin,” he repeated more calmly.

“Eren… You look nice,” Armin commented, a light blush on his cheek as he timidly hugged himself with one arm.

“Nice? Uh, thanks…” Eren tilted his head, settling into his smile. “You do, too.” They fell silent then, though neither of them really felt awkward; both had rapidly fluttering hearts, and were lost in a flurry of “what-should-I-do-now” thoughts. Eren was the one to speak up first. “Let’s go see how cold the water is,” he offered. It was a nice evening- not hot enough for swimming, but warm enough to stand ankle-deep in the water.

“Oh, yes, good idea!” Armin agreed, taking Eren’s hand. Neither of them thought anything of the gesture; holding hands had been a common thing between them since they were kids. They kicked off their shoes and made their way over to the water, gingerly stepping in. Both of them shivered; Armin with a squeal, Eren with a sharp intake of breath.

“It’s so cold!” he shrieked, jolting back. Armin, however, held tight to his hand and prevented him from bolting back to shore.

“I think it feels nice,” Armin indicated with a smile. Eren sighed slightly and hesitantly retook his place by Armin’s side.

Noticing Eren’s discomfort, Armin decided it best to strike up a conversation to distract him. “It’s only a few minutes till sunset… Do you know how _gorgeous_ it’s going to look, over the horizon? With all the _colors…_ ” His eyes sparkled dreamily at the image.

Eren smiled at him. “You’re right… Purple, and pink, and orange, all reflected in the water.”

“Yes! Exactly! It makes the scenery even _more_ beautiful,” Armin breathed, ecstatic that he didn’t appear to be boring his companion. Eren’s smile softened.

“You’ve always loved the ocean, huh? I remember you carrying around a different ocean-related book every week. Books about Atlantis, aquatic mammals, folklore about the sea, fish…”

Armin perked up slightly, blushing. “You remember that? Yes, I… have always loved it,” he nodded. “….I miss those days,” he added quietly. “When we were kids…”

Eren’s smile faded, and he glanced sadly down at the water. “…yeah. Me too. When we spent hours together, every single day…” He turned back to Armin, furrowing his eyebrows to give him a serious expression. “I’m really sorry, Armin. That we’ve… fallen apart lately. It’s just so hard, when we have no classes together, and we’re in different crowds now… And we’re always so busy. It’s not like I avoid you or anything, we just rarely cross paths anymore.”

“It’s okay, I completely understand…” Armin murmured. “You can’t have much free time when you’re always training to slaughter the Titans,” he grinned up at Eren, referring to Sina High’s enemy school’s football team, the Titans. Eren returned the smile, though softer.

“I miss you, Armin. And by the time it finally clicked that I, well, _love_ you,” Armin’s cheeks flushed at those words, “we were already so distant.”

“I wouldn’t say _so_ distant…” Armin disagreed gently. “We haven’t hung out since middle school, but we do text on occasion… And think about each other…” His blush deepened. “A-at least, I think about _you…”_ Eren gave him a nod, assuring him that his thoughts did in fact tend to trail to Armin. “Plus, here we are now! On a date… As, _boyfriends.”_

“…are we, though?”

Armin felt his heart freeze and his body tense. Realizing what it sounded like he was suggesting, Eren quickly continued, “I never formally asked you out, did I? Everyone just assumed that since we both liked each other, we were boyfriends, so, we just went along with it. That being said…” Eren squeezed Armin’s hand tighter and used his other hand to caress his cheek, tucking a bit of his blonde hair behind his ear. “Armin, will you be my boyfriend?”

Tears briefly jumped into Armin’s deep blue eyes, and he blinked quickly to clear them away. “Of course, Eren-!” Eren smiled gently and leaned down slightly to give Armin a peck on the cheek, causing his face to glow its reddest. “…did you ever see this coming?” he asked once his blush had died down a bit, wiggling his feet in the water in order to better feel the soft sand between his toes. “You and me, in love…”

“…no. I don’t think I did,” Eren answered honestly, tilting his head.

“Neither did I,” Armin agreed, skirting his fingertips of his free hand across the shallow water below.

“But now that we _do_ feel this way… I’m glad. I’m just surprised we didn’t realize it earlier.”

Armin looked up into his face, and smiled. “I can say the same.”

They then fell silent, but not because they didn’t know what to say next; they had locked eyes, and suddenly found themselves hypnotized. It was so peaceful, with nothing but the subtle crash of waves gently breaking filling their ears, their hearts filled with joy at hearing declarations of love, and their eyes filled with nothing but the face of the person they loved most. So peaceful, so perfect… Yet it could be made even better. They were absently leaning closer, closer, lost in pools of teal and blue, until their eyes seemed to close on their own accord and the distance between their faces was gone.

Just as they were melting into this new sensation, starting to acknowledge what was going on, it suddenly came to an end. Armin had shrunk back, eyes wide, heart hammering. Eren frowned and tilted his head slightly. “What?”

Armin covered his mouth with one hand, blushing awfully. “Don’t get the wrong idea, please-! I just-! I’ve never been kissed before… I don’t know what I’m doing….”

Eren immediately loosened up, smiling softly and taking Armin’s hand away from his mouth. “Well I’m in the same situation. So we’re even.”

“You mean you’ve never-?” Eren shook his head; Armin gaped in surprise. “But you’re on the _football team,_ I just assumed you-”

“-spent every night with a cheerleader? Please, I’ve never cared about dating. Of course, you’re a special case….”

“…wow,” Armin breathed. “I’m sorry, Eren-!”

“Why are you apologizing?” Eren chuckled, and began to lean in for another kiss, only to have Armin hold him back by the shoulders. He sighed. “You’re _that_ insecure about kissing, huh…”

“…h-help me,” Armin whispered. “You seem to know how to do it, so, show me…! Please…”

Once again, Eren wore a smile that displayed nothing but sheer affection. “Of course. It’s easy, really. Not something you think about, it just comes naturally. Close your eyes…” Armin immediately shut his eyes, perhaps too tightly. Eren swallowed a laugh at Armin’s effort. “Part your lips _just_ barely, and pucker them slightly…” Armin’s cheeks flushed a deep pink and he almost protested, but he reluctantly obliged. Eren bit his tongue, mentally reveling at how undeniably adorable (and silly) Armin looked.  “Okay, now when I kiss you, just lean your face against mine, mostly with your _lower_ face. Then when I pull away, if you want another kiss, just pucker your lips a little more and lean toward me.”

Armin nodded slowly, furrowing his eyebrows and going over all that in his head. “Yes… Got it… Okay, now, kiss me.” Eren smiled fondly, took Armin’s chin in his hand, closed his eyes, and pressed a gentle kiss against his lips.

This time, they both relished the moment. The rest of the world melted away; their bodies felt weightless; their lips tingled; everything was perfect, so long as they were there with each other. When their mouths finally separated, they remained close, Armin on his toes with his hands pressed against Eren’s chest and their noses touching. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“…I guess not…” Armin murmured, his eyes shining and cheeks pink. He glanced away for a moment, then suddenly wrapped his arms around Eren’s neck, pulled him down to his level, and kissed him with double the passion as before. Eren was taken aback at first, but quickly slipped his hands around Armin’s waist, pulling their bodies close together, and returned the kiss. Once they pulled away, they were wearing rather opposite expressions: Armin looked nervous, as if he’d done an awful thing, while Eren was smiling, like he was experiencing the best moment of his entire life.

“That was a little sloppy, but it was nice,” Eren teased. Armin opened his mouth to defend himself, but Eren cut him off with a quick peck on the lips. Armin pouted, yet a teensy smile had begun to creep onto his lips, and soon enough they were both laughing like amused children.

For about a minute, they simply stood there in the water, waves lapping at their ankles, smiling airily in each others’ arms, when suddenly the ocean tides took a slight change. A wave much bigger than any they had seen since they got there crashed nearby, creating an unexpected undertow. “Whoa-!”Eren gasped, snapping out of his lovestruck stupor. He began to trip forward, and Armin reached out his arms to stop him; however, the current ended up pulling both of them down, flailing in a fruitless attempt to regain balance. “Shit! Armin, are you okay?!” Eren asked frantically, sitting upright and shuddering at the feeling of the water and sand against his clothes.

“Yes, I’m fine… Just a little wet,” Armin answered. That was quite the understatement: he was soaked from head to toe, and would probably be washing sand out of his hair for a few days.  Nonetheless, he was smiling contentedly. He gradually scooped up a handful of sand, and in an instant he had whipped his hand out of the water and flung the sand at Eren.

Eren just gaped in disgust for a moment, but a grin slowly appeared on his face. “You’re dead, Arlert.” He dug up _two_ handfuls of wet sand, and smacked it against the front of Armin’s shirt.

Soon enough, they had each other by the shoulders and were tumbling around the shallow waters, splashing and rolling around and chasing each other. Just like they were kids again. After only a few minutes, they were equally soaked and sandy, and out of breath both from laughing and running. “…oh, Eren… _Look…”_ Armin gasped, falling sideways into his boyfriend as Eren wrapped his arm around his shoulders.

“Oh, wow…” Eren breathed, his eyes widening and breath settling. The sun had begun to set, and it was just as dazzling as they had expected: the colors reflected against the already shimmering waves, and the sun was a red-orange half circle dipping below the horizon.

“…Eren…”

Eren glanced down at Armin, whose eyes were still glued to the breathtaking sight in the sky. “Yeah?”

“…I love you.” Now Armin turned away from the sunset, gazing up at Eren with a sincerity he could hardly remember feeling before.

“I love you too… Armin…” Eren brought his hands to Armin’s cheeks, brushing away some mud that had got there. Both of them looked awful; drenched, sand-covered clothes and hair with mud all over their bare skin. Yet that hardly appeared as a flaw to either of them. They had an overwhelming feeling of joy racing in their chests, their mouths ached from smiling and laughing, their lips still tingled with the memory of the kisses they had shared, and most importantly, they were together. It had been so long, _too_ long, since that had happened. And they both missed it desperately.

“You look awful,” Armin murmured, smiling airily with obvious doting in his tone.

“So do you,” Eren retorted, tapping him on the nose with a muddy finger.

Armin flashed a brief smile, closing his eyes and nuzzling his head into the crook of Eren’s neck. In turn, Eren rested his head on top of Armin’s. “…we should do this again sometime.”

“Absolutely,” Eren agreed without a moment of hesitation. He planted a kiss against Armin’s forehead, hugging him close with one arm. “Now that we’re dating and everything, we need to find each other in the halls… I could walk you to class, maybe.”

“I can text you my schedule, we’ll change our walking paths so we can pass each other more often!” Armin offered. Eren smiled at him with a nod.

“Good idea. And speaking of which, we need to start texting each other daily again.”

“We _do.”_

Now their lips met yet again, this time tasting of sandy saltwater. But they didn’t mind; it was still just as magical as the other kisses. “We should go get rinsed off…” Armin whispered against Eren’s lips, their eyes closed and foreheads touching. They rubbed together as Eren gave a nod to his head.

“I’ll walk you home…”

The boys headed out of the water hand-in-hand and retrieved their shoes. They chatted as they rinsed off the sand and mud in the beach’s outdoor shower and all the way home, catching up on the things they’d missed in each others’ high school lives. They both immensely regretted losing contact over the months… But it was okay. Things were changing now, and they were becoming better than before.


	3. Levi/Hanji: Break TIme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is there an age limit to when you can stop having crushes? Apparently not, because Sina High's science and French teachers seem to be strangely attracted to each other. Levi and Hanji spend their lunch break together in Levi's classroom, and things take a surprising turn.

The bell rang, dismissing students to the cafeteria, an empty classroom (most likely with their significant other), or their favorite teacher’s room, while teachers were dismissed to the staff room, lunchroom patrol duty, or their desks to grade papers. Two teachers- Ms. Zoe and Mr. Levi, however, did none of the above. Levi remained in his classroom, but not to do work: simply to, well, remain in his classroom. What a pain it was, trying to get the difference between _“c’est”_ and _“ce”_ across to a bunch of inattentive brats… He needed to be alone for a while, with just his thoughts and his favorite spinning wheeled office chair. Closing his eyes, he pushed himself away from his desk, stopped just before bumping into the wall, then pushed himself back to the desk, and repeated the process again. Yes, this was-

 _“Bonjour~!”_ The door to the French classroom suddenly swung open. Levi froze; who had seen him sitting at his desk, rolling back and forth in his chair like an absent-minded child? It was hardly necessary to think about that, for there was only one person that ever dared to enter his classroom so rowdily, and her name was Hanji Zoe.

“What do you want, shitty four-eyes.” Hanji ignored the dehumanizing nickname; Levi had called her it so many times that she came to interpret it as a term of endearment. She simply continued to grin brightly and sat herself on his desk, crossing her legs and twisting her upper body around in order to face him.

“What, I can’t just drop by to chat?”

Just the _slightest_ twitch occurred in the corner of Levi’s eye. “No. I couldn’t care less about whatever the hell you learned from dissecting a lizard today,” he told her, his voice completely drenched in sarcasm.

“For one, they’re _salamanders_. Not lizards. And we don’t _dissect_ them, just observe how they’re affected by different conditions and diets!” Hanji corrected him, shaking a finger in his face. Levi’s shoulders slumped and he stared blankly into her face.

“…you’re _actually_ experimenting on lizards.”

“ _Salamanders.”_

Levi ignored that. “Changing their food and habitats seems too basic for you. What else are you doing to them?”

Hanji grinned mischievously and winked at him. “If I told you that, you’d tattle to Principal Erwin and get me arrested.”

The tiniest bit of concern flashed across Levi’s face. Well, not so much concern as it was questioning of his coworker’s sanity. “I wouldn’t.”

“Oh, _puh-lease._ I know you and Mr. Smith have a special _connection._ You’d throw me under the bus in a heartbeat if it meant impressing him.” She winked again, though this time it was suggestively.

A blush threatened on Levi’s apathetic face; most likely more out of anger than embarrassment. Or perhaps the other way around… “That was years ago. Only an affair from when we were wild teenagers,” he insisted. Hanji snorted/giggled.

“I highly doubt _you_ were ever a ‘wild teen,’” she snickered. Levi narrowed his eyes and sat back in his chair, crossing his legs and arms.

“I’ll have you know I was, as the kids call it these days, a ‘thug.’ A dangerous, well-renowned one at that.”

“Oh, yes, and before I became a scientist I was a part-time ninja warrior! Completely true story,” Hanji mused, grinning in hilarity. Suddenly, that grin faded from her face, and she tilted her head curiously. The smile then returned more gently, showing affection instead of amusement this time. “But say you _were_ a hooligan. That means you reverted from your life of crime and took to educating children instead! Oh Levi, you’re such a _sweetie!”_ She covered her mouth with both hands, closing her eyes tightly, and squealed. Levi remained speechless; no point in wasting his breath on her idiocy.

“Anyhoo, speaking of wild teenagers…” Hanji continued, already completely recovered from her moment of awe. “The chemistry amongst this batch of teens is so _exciting._ Toughies-falling-for-honor-students seems to be trending this year. Armin Arlert and Eren Jaeger… Jean Kirschstein and Marco Bodt… Ooh, and that scary Ymir girl and Christa Renz! Love is such a fascinating science,” she sighed happily, her eyes glistening behind her glasses. Levi continued to stare at her with a completely indifferent expression.

“I hope you realize I have no interest in anyof this. They’ll all just brats, I couldn’t exactly care less about their love lives.”

Hanji whined. “Aw, c’mon, I know you care about the students! They’re not _brats!_ …although, some of them…” Her demeanor darkened drastically. “I’m not sure who. I haven’t yet pinpointed their identity yet, but _someone_ murdered my two favorite salamanders…”

“…murdered?” Levi didn’t particularly care, but seeing how suddenly distressed Hanji was, he figured he might as well display some sort of interest. Hanji nodded gravely.

“Sonny and Bean, I named those salamanders. They were the largest, friendliest specimens I found… Only bit me twice each! I admit, I spoiled them… Adjusted all their diets and lighting in ways that I was certain would make them healthier. Then, one weekend… I came back to school… And someone had _intensified their cage lighting._ Th-they weren’t used to the change in heat, and…!” She buried her face in hand and made a dry sobbing sound. Then all of a sudden her sobs produced real tears, and she was sniveling like a child that just had their blankie ripped away from them.

Levi sat there awkwardly as Hanji bawled over the loss of her favorite science experiments. Slowly, he reached across his desk and grabbed a box of tissues. He offered it out to her; she peeked out between her fingers, sniffled, and took a tissue, blowing noisily. As she attempted to even her breathing and lessen her sobs, Levi decided to occupy himself by spinning casually in his chair.

Hanji finally calmed down enough to dab at her eyes and mostly regain her usual posture. Levi continued to spin nonetheless, beginning to get dizzy but not minding at all, as Hanji removed her glasses and wiped the lenses off on her shirt. He was _still_ spinning when she placed them back on her nose, and she grinned. “You know, Levi, you’re really an interesting man.” Now he stuck a foot out to stop himself and looked at Hanji to better listen to her. “You act so heartless, and always look like you hate everyone and everything. But… You’re actually very sweet. How complex…”

There was a moment of silence as Levi absorbed Hanji’s words. “You’re decent yourself,” he said eventually. Hanji’s eyes widened behind her spectacles; that was perhaps the nicest thing Levi had ever said to her directly, though she knew he was capable of more. She had seen him around students he harbored a soft spot for, coworkers going through difficult times… Under his cold exterior, he was actually a compassionate man. And Hanji absolutely adored that. She tilted her head slightly, and then nodded to herself.

“It’s about time I follow the advice the girls in the staff room keep telling me,” she decided under her breath. Levi raised his eyebrows slightly. Hanji closed her eyes tightly for a moment; when she opened them, they twinkled with determination, and she seemed to give off an air of fortitude. “Levi, be my boyfriend!”

Now, Levi wasn’t a man to easily be startled, but that caught him off guard. A downpour of emotions he couldn’t remember ever experiencing suddenly poured into his brain and chest, and for a moment his usually apathetic eyes were wide. Then as quickly as this uprising of feeling had come, he had it under control, and regained his cool composure with just a quiet clearing of his throat. He leaned back in his chair, casually draping one arm over the back, and crossed his legs again. “We’re pretty old to start doing something like that. But of course my answer is yes.”

Hanji’s moment of euphoria had also faded quickly, leaving her aura to resemble a deflated balloon as she realized the full impact of her demand. Yet, Levi’s response… Was she hearing correctly? He said yes… He _actually_ agreed to dating her… She wanted to grin, and squeal with joy, but she was simply too baffled to display a reaction other than one of shock.

“Hello, Earth to four-eyes… Did you hear me? I said yes.” Levi reached out and tucked one of the many stray strands of hair sticking away from Hanji’s head back into her messy high ponytail. His eyes gazed into hers, flickering with more emotion than was normal for him. “I figured that would be the natural response to someone you’re in love with.”

A combination of a shriek and a gasp arose in Hanji’s throat. “Wha-?! _In love_ with?! But Levi-! I-! You-! We’ve been coworkers for years, and…!”

“And I’ve always enjoyed your presence. Sure, half the time you just piss me off. …but I can’t say I dislike you. At all.” Now he stood and brought himself face-to-face with Hanji as she sat rigidly on the desk. “Looks like my type of woman is a shitty four-eyes. How unappealing.” In one combined motion, he cupped her face into his hand, pulled her down to his level, and kissed her, his body language calm but the kiss itself passionate. Hanji sat there stunned for a moment, until her brain started functioning again and she hastened to close her eyes, wrap her arms around Levi’s back, and kiss him in return.

Their noses remained touching when they pulled away, and Hanji squealed like a lovestruck teenage girl. “Oh, _Levi…_ I love you too! Even if you’re grumpy all the time. You’re _adorable!”_ She brought her hand from the top of Levi’s head to her face, demonstrating their height difference; he narrowed his eyes, and she giggled. “Okay, _handsome_ is a better word.” She kissed him on the nose, and his glare faded. In fact, a tinysmile formed at the corner of his mouth. Hanji missed it, however, because she had pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, bending down in order to smother her face in his shoulder. “Love is such a complicated chemistry…” she murmured. Levi wrapped one arm around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“We’ll have to arrange a date.” He raised his voice: _“That is, when there aren’t students listening outside the door….”_ He aimed a hard glare over Hanji’s head at the classroom door, where a few teenagers were spying through its small window. They froze in terror for a moment, and then scrambled off cursing and snickering. Hanji laughed airily, keeping her arms around Levi and her cheek against his shoulder.

“I need to be getting back to my classroom, anyway… Check on some beakers before they boil over.” She stood up straight and ran her hands up and down his biceps. “I’ll see you around, Levi.” Her voice was absolutely seaming with affection. Levi trailed his hand down her waist as she pecked him on the cheek, smiled lovingly at him, and turned to head on to her classroom. She opened the door and started to step out…

“…but seriously. What the hell are you doing to the lizards.”

“ _Salamanders.”_


	4. Annie and Mikasa: Approaching the Unapproachable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie Leonhardt doesn't seem to have any friends besides Reiner Braun and Bertholdt Fubar. Mikasa Ackerman also lacks a lot of friends. So maybe it's destined that the two girls start speaking...

When Jean Kirschstein was with his group (his actual friends, not the punks he sat with in detention), it was unlikely that anyone sharing a hall with them could avoid hearing their loud laughter and dumb jokes. “Jean, look, it’s your girlfriend!” called Connie Springer as the boys laughed over a joke that only someone with a fifth grade sense of humor would find funny.

Jean paused and looked around, expecting to see Marco turning around the corner. He perked up at the thought; this wasn’t a hall he usually saw him in, and the more time they interacted throughout the day, the better. However, the freckled boy was nowhere to be seen. Jean raised an eyebrow. “Huh? Marco’s not-”

“Not _Marco,_ dumbass. _Mikasa.”_ Sure enough, _she_ was there, spinning the combination into her locker. Jean’s expression immediately fell and his cheeks flushed pink, both out of embarrassment and anger.

“Seriously? You’re gonna bring that up again? Come on, I was just a kid! And she’s… pretty…”

“She’s _scary,”_ Connie countered. Suddenly realizing that her adoptive brother was amongst them, he shot a nervous glance in Eren’s direction, but he seemed unfazed by the comment. If anything, he agreed. This reassurance made Connie a bit cockier. “…I dare you to try and flip her skirt.”

Now _that_ got Eren’s attention. “That’s _disgusting,”_ he snapped.

“It’s brave, is what it is,” Jean retorted. “Not that I am, but it’s not like she’ll kill me,” he added in a mutter. Connie grinned mischievously, the expression mirrored on the faces of the rest of their group.

“So are you saying you’ll do it?” Connie pressed, bouncing on his heels. Jean shrugged, a tiny smirk forming on his face.

“I’ve done it to prettier girls. Why not.”

This response received a wave of positive feedback from his group (minus Eren), including whoops of encouragement and slaps on the back. Jean handed his books to his nearest friend, cracked his neck, and swaggered over to Mikasa. He leaned his elbow against the locker to her left so that he was visible to her only when she went to close her locker door. He expected her to at least jump a little, and was quite disappointed when he received no response at all. “Well hey there, Miss Ackerman…Don’t you just look _scrumptious_ today.”

Slowly, Mikasa clicked her locker shut and just continued to stare blankly at Jean. “…have you broken up with Marco?”

Jean’s smirk vanished at the mere mention of such a thing, but he immediately forced it back onto his face. “’Course not. But who says I can’t have a little fun on the side?” Deciding he wanted to get this done and over with as quickly as possible, he began to reach for her skirt, only to have her turn and start to walk away from him.

“It seems like common sense. It’s disloyal.”

Hearing the murmurs and snickers of his friends, Jean hurried after Mikasa, pathetically reaching toward her. “No, no, it’s not disloyal if it’s just-”

“You’re flattering. But please. Don’t touch me.” Mikasa paused only to give Jean a stare cold enough to make his veins freeze over. His hand fell to his side.

“Uh, r-right. My bad. Won’t… happen again,” he stuttered. They continued their stare down- fear against intimidation- until Jean doubled back and scrambled off to his amused awaiting friends.

“Whoa there, tiger, you sure had that in the bag. You’re so smooth!” Connie laughed, gripping his sides. Their whole group joined in, causing Jean’s cheeks to flush pink. Eren was the only one not laughing; he simply wore an “I-told-you-so” expression.

“That was _pitiful,_ horse face. How could you even THINK you’d be able to manage doing that to Mikasa? Stupid,” he commented.

Jean’s face glowed redder and redder and his fists clenched tighter and tighter. “Yeah?! Well, if you guys are so cool,” he looked back and forth between Connie and Eren, “why don’t _you_ go… hit on _Annie Leonhardt!”_ he spat. Despite being one of the tiniest girls in the school, Annie Leonhardt was not someone easily overlooked. For one, she was always flanked by Reiner Braun and Bertholdt Fubar: two hefty members of the football team and childhood friends of hers. Her face usually lacked emotion, only ever bearing a cold or frowning expression. Moreover, she always managed to have top-notch physical fitness scores and was reputed to be capable of knocking anyone senseless if they got deep enough on her bad side.

 “Hell no!” was Eren’s immediate interjection while Connie just abruptly sobered. “I don’t ever want to need to associate with her. Besides, unlike _some_ people, I’m actually a loyal boyfriend.” He narrowed his teal eyes at Jean, who only tensed as if prepping to throw a punch. “Speaking of, I need to go meet up with Armin.” With that, he shifted his backpack and shouldered out of the crowd, disappearing to locate his boyfriend.

“…well? Are _you_ gonna do it?” Jean, slightly more relaxed now, prodded at Connie.

The short teen jumped. “Huh? Uh…” He shook his head and stood up, chest out, arms crossed boastfully. “’Course I am. I’m not some _coward_.”

“It’d be better to admit you don’t wanna _die_ and just back down now, but hey,” Jean shrugged, a slight bemused smirk on his face, “whatever floats your boat.” Connie narrowed his golden eyes at him and strutted away from the group, around the corner to the hall where Annie’s locker was known to be. “Don’t worry about her bodyguards! Jaeger says they’re pretty decent dudes, even if they’re former _Titans,”_ Jean called after him, referring to the fact that Annie, Reiner, and Bertholdt all had recently transferred from Sina High’s rival high school.

Connie flapped his hand in response, not even turning around to look at Jean. He stuck his chin in the air and walked right up to Annie, a list of pick-up lines flowing through his head. There she was, her small form almost invisible between her two large friends… All he had to do was charm her with his words, smack her butt, and walk away, then he’d have earned the respect of all his friends; no, everyone in the school-!

“Are you looking at me?” Connie snapped out of his glorifying fantasies at the sound of Annie’s harsh tone. How long had he _actually_ been standing there? The answer to that question would be about 30 seconds, though Connie was hardly aware of that. His brain started to shut down, not only from embarrassment that he had zoned out while _in_ the zone, but also from Annie’s stare alone. The depths of her cold blue eyes seemed to emit an icy ray that could pierce through anyone.

“H-huh? Wha? Who, me? Naw, I… I wasn’t… I was just- I gotta go,” he sputtered, legs turning to jelly under her frozen gaze. He staggered back a few steps, trapped in the limelight of Annie’s blue eyes and her friends’ curious stares, then doubled back and retreated around the corner to where Jean stood watching bemusedly.

“You are _such_ a hypocrite,” he accused with an amused smirk.

“Not fair!” Connie snapped, his face glowing. “Mikasa’s a cool chick, Annie’s scary as shit!”

“Oh, she’s not actually that intimidating.” Eren passed them now, Mikasa in tow, one arm around Armin’s shoulders and the other carrying said boyfriend’s book bag. He paused as they walked by. “She just needs an attitude adjustment.”

Jean raised an eyebrow at him skeptically. “Are you saying you have the guts to talk to her, Jaeger?”

“Yes, actually, I do.” Fueled by the constant urge to look tough and cool in front of his dear boyfriend, Eren shifted Armin’s bag from his elbow crook to his shoulder and took his turn approaching Annie Leonhardt.

“Eren, don’t tell me you’re going to talk to her,” Mikasa whispered, grabbing her adopted brother by the arm. Eren immediately slipped his arm out of hers, smiling confidently.

“Relax, Mikasa. I’m just going to tell her to lighten up.” He patted her on the shoulder and continued on his way.

Eren nodded his head at Reiner and Bertholdt as he walked up, having known them from the football team, and they nodded back, but then gave him cautious looks. Assuming they were only reminding him of their positions of Annie’s bodyguards, Eren ignored them. “Hey, Annie, right? You probably know me, Eren Jaeger. I just wanted to-” He didn’t get the chance to complete his sentence.

Perhaps he should have looked past Reiner’s warning expression and noted the obvious tension in Annie’s body. The combination of being bothered by Connie and just plain having a bad morning had put Annie especially on edge, and Eren had managed to push her over. She moved impossibly fast; in an instant, she slammed her locker shut, spun around, hooked her foot behind Eren’s heel, and knocked him off balance, delivering a swift punch to his chest to guarantee that he would fall, leaving nobody with time to react. Reiner and Bertholdt just stood there in shock while Eren collapsed with a look of bewilderment. The bag on his arm tumbled to the ground along with him.

 Mikasa responded the quickest; Eren, Bertholdt, and Reiner were still frozen when she sprinted to Eren’s aid. She grabbed Annie (whom was still in her fighting stance) by the collar and shoved her against the lockers, a fiery look in her eyes. Annie instinctively grabbed at Mikasa’s wrists the moment she was touched. “Don’t you _ever_ touch Eren _again,”_ Mikasa growled. Annie only glared at her, but unlike everyone else, Mikasa didn’t even falter. Her intense gaze was just as strong. Narrowing her eyes, Annie tightened her grip on Mikasa’s wrists and yanked herself free. She trudged off silently. Bertholdt and Reiner snapped back to their senses and hurried to return to her sides.

 “Are you okay, Eren?” Mikasa asked gently, helping him to his feet as he sat in a daze. Armin rushed over as well, ignoring that the contents of his bag had been strewn across the hall and instead assisted Mikasa in balancing Eren.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just…. _Damn,_ ” he breathed, eyes still wide.

“She’s trouble, Eren… You should stay away from her,” Armin insisted with concern in his tone.

Eren gave a slight nod to his head, regaining his composure now. “Agreed.”

~-~-~-~-~-~

The day progressed normally from there, and the morning’s awkward events slipped everyone’s minds. Soon enough, school had let out for the day, the students went home or to their afterschool activities, then said activities were wrapping up as well. Eren had been the last to leave the locker room since he was texting Armin, who had stayed after for chess club, telling him to meet him by the buses. By the time he emerged, all of his teammates had either found their cars in the parking lot, gotten on the bus, or lingered to flirt; likewise, the cheerleaders were either sneaking peeks at the remaining football players or finding their own rides home. That left Eren and Mikasa to be the only ones on the field.

“You know, Mikasa… All the other cheerleader hang out together,” he noted as he watched the members of the squad split into three groups: two piling into two similar, expensive-looking cars, and one under the arms of hunky football players. “All except for you. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“No,” Mikasa answered without a moment of thought. Because it truly _didn’t_ bother her. Eren, however, found that hard to believe. He narrowed his eyes, adjusting his duffel bag and looking sideways at Mikasa as they made their way to the bus lot.

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s totally cool that me and Armin have always been your only close friends, the only people you hang out with. We’ve always been a trio, and that’s never been a problem. But we’re _high schoolers_ now. You really need other people to hang out with.”

Mikasa stayed silent. It wasn’t like she was ignoring Eren’s words, or that she was hurt by them; she just didn’t find them relevant or sensible enough to respond to. So she let him continue. “What about dating? You don’t even try to display interest in a relationship. The only one you had was when you dated Jean last year and then suddenly broke the guy’s heart with no warning.”

Now _that_ got a reaction out of Mikasa. She froze, eyes widened slightly, the faintest blush sweeping across her cheeks. They had _promised_ to never speak of that again, what a low blow… Eren, already a few steps ahead of her, stopped and looked back, his eyes widening in alarm at her sudden signs of distress. He softened his demeanor and back-stepped to her side, resting his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I just don’t like you being so lonely, okay? I want you to be happy.”

“I _am_ happy,” Mikasa insisted, her cool composure recovered already. Eren opened his mouth to argue further, but sighed and let it go.

“Come on. Armin is waiting for us.”

Meanwhile, Reiner Braun was having a similar conversation with Annie as he drove her and Bertholdt back to their flat. “I hate to say it, Ann, but it’s kinda sad how you just sit up in the bleachers all by yourself whenever we’ve got practice. Kinda makes you look like a loser,” he mentioned, looking at her in the backseat with the rearview mirror.

“ _Excuse_ me?” Annie said with a hard glare.

“Not that you are,” Reiner covered up quickly. He let out a heavy sigh. “Look, all I’m saying is that there’s no reason Bert and I should be the only people you hang with. You had so many other friends back at our old school!” Annie raised an eyebrow skeptically.“…okay, maybe it’s just that you had a lot less enemies. My point is-”

“Shut up and focus on the road,” Annie interrupted. Reiner and Bertholdt exchanged a glance, sighed, and the drive was silent from then on.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

The following day, cheerleading practice was cancelled last minute, leaving Mikasa to sit in the bleachers as she watched Eren practice drills with his team. Not that she had a problem with that; she loved watching Eren play football. He was so passionate about it, so dedicated… It was no wonder he was the team’s MVP.

There was only one problem with this arrangement, and that was that Mikasa wasn’t alone in the bleachers: Annie was already there when she arrived, sitting alone in the highest corner. Mikasa’s instinct was to simply ignore her presence, and sit far away from her in the front row. However, as she went to take her seat, Eren’s words from the prior day suddenly started ringing in her head: _You really need other people to hang out with._ _I just don’t like you being so lonely, okay?_ Hesitating greatly, she slowly made her way up to the spot directly in front of Annie, being careful not to look at her for more than a brief glance as she sat down. A few minutes passed, and Mikasa grew content that Annie was ignoring her presence and she would not have to worry about having a conversation with her. She focused on watching Eren and eventually forgot why she’d sat in that spot in the first place.

“…you. You’re that friend of Jaeger’s , right?”

Mikasa glanced over her shoulder at Annie’s words, not because she acknowledged she was being spoken to, but only as a reaction to hearing sound.  She almost returned her attention to the football field, but then she realized that Annie was looking directly at her and seemed to be anticipating a reply. “…yes. I am,” she confirmed tentatively.

It once again fell silent between them, and Mikasa started to wonder if she had imagined Annie speaking to her, but after nearly a minute, the blonde girl spoke up again. “…Bertholdt and Reiner. Tell Jaeger to let them know I have to leave for detention soon. I’ll be gone by the time they’re on break.”

 _Why would I do that for you? You’re a stranger and a bitch,_ was Mikasa’s initial thought. However, she decided that verbalizing that would be terribly rude, and instead brought herself to ask, “Why do you have a detention?” Annie hesitated before responding.

“…someone ratted me out for killingMs. Zoe’s salamanders.”

Mikasa’s eyes widened just a bit. Half of her science class that day had consisted of Hanji rambling about how distressed she was at finding one of her students had “betrayed her trust by depriving her of precious specimens.”  Apparently she had found the assailant… For some reason, it hardly surprised Mikasa that Annie was the one to do it. “What benefit could that possibly have?”

Annie only shrugged.

“…I bet you’re lonely.” Mikasa did not really intend to say that out loud, yet she didn’t exactly regret doing so. It was a necessary point.

This time, Annie didn’t pause before replying. “That’s bullshit,” she spat automatically, narrowing her eyes. Most people would cringe at her abrupt ferocity, but Mikasa didn’t even falter.

“I feel the same way,” she told her calmly, actually meeting her gaze. A sort of sadness flickered across her eyes. “And I know what it’s like to have everyone be afraid of you.” Annie looked away before Mikasa could take note of any emotion on her face. Geez, she was so _difficult…_ Was everyone this tedious to talk to? ….Eren’s words once again repeated themselves in Mikasa’s mind. “Annie, I don’t trust you. But we should be friends.”

“I don’t want _friends,”_ Annie snapped.

“Neither do I.”

A silence fell between them yet again, but this time, the tension was high. They continued to gaze at each other, neither one faltering, until Annie stood and spoke up. She turned her head away, though her eyes were pointed toward Mikasa. “I’ll see you around, Ackerman. …Mikasa.”

Mikasa’s heart skipped a beat in her chest. What was she _doing,_ befriending _Annie Leonhardt?_ She was trouble, she hated her. …but she could always give her a chance. And besides, Eren wanted her to make a friend. “Yes, I’ll see you. We should… study together, tonight.”

Annie gave a slight nod to her head and started walking down the steps; she paused and turned back. “Do you also have a geometry exam tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. We can study for that, then. And don’t forget to tell your boyfriend to let Reiner and Bert know where I am right now.” She continued on her way, leaving Mikasa to feel uncharacteristically dazed.

~-~-~-~-~-~

Not 20 minutes after Mikasa and Eren (along with Armin) had arrived home, the doorbell rang. Everyone knew where the Jaegers lived- the only house in town that was on a hill- so Annie hadn’t any trouble locating it, and didn’t even need to ask. Mikasa didn’t bother to announce that she’d get the door; Eren and Armin were too preoccupied sharing a bowl of chips and kissing dip off each others’ faces and finding the most comfortable positions to cuddle in to even notice the doorbell went off. The moment Annie and Mikasa walked in the room, however, they felt the atmosphere drop noticeably enough for them to both look up. Eren’s expression transitioned from one of adoration to one of horror; the bowl of chips fell to the ground as he scrambled to his feet.

“What the hell is _she_ doing here?!” he demanded, baffled as to what reason Annie’d have to being in his house.

“You told me I needed to make friends,” Mikasa responded simply.

“Yeah, but not with-” Annie shot him a glare that shut him right up. He huffed and turned to Armin, who was trying to clean up the spilled chips and looking equally as frightened. “C’mon, let’s go to my room.” Armin stood up straight and nodded, setting the chips on the coffee table before following Eren down the hall to the stairs that led to his bedroom.

“Do you have condoms up there, Eren?” Mikasa called after him. Either she was trying to make a joke, or was legitimately concerned that Eren and Armin would have sex; her monotone voice made it impossible to tell.

“ _MIKASA!”_ Eren shrieked back in disgust.

 Annie seemed completely unfazed by Mikasa’s personal question. “It must be a pain to look after him like he’s some child.”

Mikasa sat in the spot Eren had been moments ago, pulling her geometry textbook out of her bag. Annie sat beside her and did the same. “I feel like I’m obligated to. His mother asked me to watch out for him after she was in a terrible accident.” She flipped to the page she needed to study; Annie looked up at her, her hand on her own textbook.

“…is she dead?” Mikasa glanced up at her casually.

“No, she’s in the kitchen. She’s just in a wheelchair now.”

“Hm.” Annie skimmed through her textbook until she located the page Mikasa was on. “…having parents is only degrading. Everything has been so much better since it became just me, Reiner, and Bertholdt. The solitude is preferable.”

A reel of dark memories flashed in Mikasa’s mind. She had to blink to clear her head of the haunting thoughts. Dare she share them with Annie? “…I have to disagree. I watched my parents be murdered, when I was young,” she hesitantly digressed.

Annie stared into Mikasa’s face, masking all emotions. “It was nice of the Jaegers to take you in,” she said after a brief pause. “It’s good to know there are kind people in this sick world. Though…. You should know that I’m not one of them.”

“I know you aren’t.”

That wasn’t where Annie expected Mikasa to end her response. She thought she’d have more to say, give examples of _why_ she wasn’t a good person, explain that she didn’t see a cruel girl like her as a real friend. But she didn’t. Annie pulled her book into her lap, and gazed down at the text. “We should start.”


	5. Ymir/Christa: First Time... or Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumor has it that Ymir is a virgin... and it's true. But she's decided that she's going to change that, and her girlfriend Christa Renz is going to be the one to change it.

“Reiner Braun, get your ass _over here.”_

Everyone has that one friend that they simply can’t stand. The person they can’t seem to see eye-to-eye with, can’t speak to without starting an argument, love to get dirt on, hate to interact with…. Yet they _do_ interact with them, because for whatever reason, they see each other as “friends,” or acquaintances to say the least, and had some unexplainable connection they could not break. Reiner had this exact type of relationship with a girl named Ymir.

The Swedish girl was older than most of her classmates due to her inattentiveness to class work. Rumor had it, however, that she _chose_ to get held back, because of her desire to spend more time with the kindhearted yet also brave Christa Renz: her current girlfriend. Ymir was most well-known for her relationship with the popular girl. How the careless tomboy won the heart of the much sought after blonde girl was a mystery to everyone.

“A ‘please’ would be nice,” Reiner smirked playfully as a very enraged Ymir stampeded toward him. Bertholdt, on Reiner’s heels (Annie was off doing her own thing, probably in the gym), widened his eyes in alarm as Ymir grabbed his friend angrily by the collar, his body tensing. Ymir casted a glance his way.

“I gotta talk to him for a sec, chill.” Bertholdt responded with a hesitant nod, and shuffled off to the side to give them their privacy.

Most people would shake under Ymir’s intense glare; Reiner, however, was used to dealing with a pissed Ymir, and came to find it rather amusing in mot scenarios. “What can I help you with?” he teased.

“The rumors finally got around to me. Why the _fuck_ would you tell everyone that I’m a _virgin?!”_ she hissed, gripping his shirt so tightly that her tanned knuckles turned white. Reiner still remained completely casual nonetheless.

“You found out already? Damn. Well, I’m impressed you narrowed the culprit down to me so quickly.”

“I know a guy.” By that, Ymir actually meant she had held a boy’s face in a girls’ room toilet until he told her who had told him the rumor. From there Ymir followed the chain back to its origin: Reiner. “How the _hell_ did you find that out?!” she demanded.

A smirk played on Reiner’s lips. “Christa’s a very nice girl, you know. We chat a lot in every class we have together,” he answered.

Shock, disgust, and a vast amount of lingering fury all mixed together in Ymir’s face. “ _Christa_ told you?! I’ll _kill_ that girl…” Of course, Ymir didn’t mean that; she would never be able to bring herself to do any harm to Christa. Besides, Reiner had probably just asked her the question and she was simply too conversational and honest to avoid answering. That being said, Ymir ruled out the possibility of Christa being anything but the victim, and decided the blame was completely Reiner’s. “Listen here, Braun. This is _war._ I’m gonna get the worst shit on you, and let _everyone_ know it,” she vowed, jabbing him in the chest with her index finger.

Reiner raised an eyebrow nonchalantly. “Yeah? And how do you plan to do that? The only people with dirt on me are Annie and Bertholdt.”

“They like me,” Ymir insisted snippily.

“They like me more,” Reiner argued with a smirk.

Scowling, Ymir gave Reiner a shove and stepped back. “Tch, whatever. See you around, Reiner.”

“I look forward to it.” Ymir smacked him before turning and trudging off. _What a douchebag!_ she thought angrily as she stormed through the halls. _How the hell am I supposed to get back at him?_ A variety of bizarre, unnecessarily violent scenarios swirled around her mind, until one actually reasonable one came to her attention: _prove him wrong._ “Prove him wrong, eh…” she muttered under her breath, pausing. Perfect; she began to formulate a plan.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Ymir waited in the school parking lot, tapping her foot impatiently and repeatedly glancing at her watch. She had walked Christa to cheer practice after school ended, and told her she was going to take her home afterwards. It was much more of a demand than a request, though Christa hardly minded; she was perfectly willing to spend as much time with her girlfriend as possible.

Ymir had stopped home to change out of her uniform (the boys’ uniform, at that, as per her choosing) and into a hoodie and jeans, and had taken her time coming back. She would have loved to watch her little Christa strut her stuff as captain of the cheer squad, except she wasn’t allowed anywhere near the football field. For a few months, Ymir had been a member of the school’s football team. She was a valuable player despite being the only female and helped the team win their first game; however, she was known for her lack of tolerance toward her teammates. More often than not she’d get in major fights with the guys, and one day, she went a little too far. Far enough to hospitalize a boy, that is. Although her performance was star material, her attendance and attitude were anything but, so the coach, sick of her behavior, didn’t hesitate to sack her from the team. Christa, always on Ymir’s side, begged him to allow her to play again, but there was nothing he could do about it anyway: when Ymir’s victim was released from the hospital, he filed a restraining order against her.

And so, since that boy continued to play for the team, Ymir was forced by law to wait in the parking lot until the cheer squad and football team wrapped up their practices. “Ymir!” Ymir’s head snapped up at the sweet sound of Christa’s voice. She was smiling brightly as she jogged over, backpack bouncing on her shoulder. “I took a shower in the locker room so I don’t need to stop home…”

“Good,” was Ymir’s terse response. Christa stood on her tip-toes to give Ymir a kiss on the cheek before ducking into the passenger side of her car. Ymir kept a cool composure until Christa closed the door behind her, after which her face glowed red. Poor Christa had no idea of what dirty things she had in store for her that evening… She shook her head and smacked her own face a little; Christa wasn’t as innocent as she looked, surely she’d comply with what she wanted to do. Ymir got in the car.

“So, what do you have planned?” Christa inquired once they returned to Ymir’s flat, setting her bag down on the kitchen table and removing her shoes. Ymir stared blankly at her with her hands in her hoodie pockets while inside, she was actually a nervous wreck. How would she answer that question honestly? “I’m going to pull you into my room and have sex with you just to make Reiner take back his word”? Christa was standing there so sincerely in love with her, smiling so serenely… Wouldn’t doing such a thing be deemed as betrayal? “There’s this new movie on HBO, I’ve heard it’s pretty good… We could make popco-”

Christa’s offer was cut off when Ymir grabbed her by her small shoulders and pulled her forward, leaning down and pressing a passionate kiss to her lips. “Come on,” Ymir muttered, sliding her hand down to Christa’s wrist and standing back upright. Christa blinked for a moment, stunned, then calmly followed after her rough girlfriend as she took her to the bedroom.  

Ymir practically threw Christa onto her unmade bed. She kicked off her sneakers and straddled the confused girl, simultaneously delivering heated kisses to her lip-glossed mouth. Her heart raced and her mind struggled to keep up with her actions; what was she _doing?_ The kisses Christa tried to return were feeble and sluggish, which was only natural, with how abruptly Ymir had acted. Well, there was no turning back now…  Just when Ymir’s humanity began to slip away and instinct clawed its way up to take its place, Christa’s hands held Ymir’s freckled cheeks in place and pulled her face away. Ymir’s body and mind alike froze.

A soft smile appeared on Christa’s lovely face. “You were getting a little rough. Sweetie, if you wanted to take our relationship further…. You could have just asked,” she murmured affectionately. Ymir’s face flushed; she mumbled incomprehensibly under her breath, causing Christa to chuckle. “You seem so nervous.”

The blush on Ymir’s cheeks glowed deeper. “I ain’t _nervous!”_  The breath left Ymir’s body, along with all hope of her mind being able to function properly, when Christa gently tugged on Ymir’s collar and pulled her down to her height, caressing her lips against hers. If their lips weren’t locked together, Ymir’s jaw would have dropped in shock as Christa’s hands skirted across her body, from her arms to her waist to her flat breasts and then all over again. Instinct kicked in instantaneously; Ymir’s callused hands slipped under Christa’s blouse, tracing circles over her sensitive ribcage before sliding up to unclip her bra. As her fingers grazed the hooks, though, she paused. While Christa continued to move, Ymir seemed to be frozen in time; not only was her mind failing her, but now instinct was as well. She simply couldn’t function, not this way.

She pulled her hands out from under Christa’s shirt and stood up. “Okay, hold up a sec. No point in takin’ this farther if we won’t even be able to get past touching. I mean, I don’t have the right toys or anything…” Her eyes darted around and she struggled to keep a cool composure as she said this. True, there wasn’t much they could do without the… _proper tools,_ and it wouldn’t be considered losing her virginity if she just touched Christa’s body and vice versa… Her main concern, however, was that in reality, it seemed she was all talk. What did she know about sex aside from stuff she’d stumbled across online and in magazines? Christa, on the other hand, seemed to at least have a vague idea as to what she was doing; it was only natural, being the much desired captain of the cheer squad. It appeared that Ymir was going to end up being the one being pleasured, not doing the pleasuring, and that was _not_ how she wanted it to go. She wanted to be in the lead.

Christa chuckled gently, sliding to her feet. Ymir tensed; could she tell what she was thinking? Was she that easy to read? The blonde girl stood on her toes to peck Ymir’s cheek. “I’ll go put the popcorn in the microwave.” With that she swept away to the kitchen, her skirt swishing with each confident step she took. Ymir’s eyes trailed after her retreating form. She was such a mystery, that girl…. Yet so beautiful, so empathetic, so kind, so… _perfect._ An absent smile appeared on Ymir’s face as she realized how lucky she really was. She followed after Christa and clicked on the television.

~-~-~-~-~-~

“Ugh, come on! You didn’t tell me this was a _chick flick!”_ Ymir groaned once the film Christa had mentioned began to play on her HBO.

“Aw, you know you like these movies,” Christa teased, a skip in her step as she set the bowl of freshly popped popcorn on the coffee table in front of them and sat beside her tall girlfriend, crossing her legs in a ladylike way.

“Gross.” Ymir shoveled a handful of popcorn into her mouth. She wrapped her arm around Christa’s shoulders, pulling the girl close to her chest and scowling agitatedly as the movie wrapped up its (cheesy) prologue. Her grimace softened when Christa nuzzled her head against her chest, cuddling as close to her as physically possible and making sure their fingers touched as they simultaneously reached for some of their buttery snack.

The movie progressed as most “chick flicks” did, with the cliché best friend, love interest, and controlling parent archetypes. If not for Christa commentating animatedly and cuddling into Ymir like an overly affectionate kitten, Ymir probably would have fallen asleep. During the particularly boring slow scenes, Ymir would lean down and press a kiss to Christa’s lips just to keep herself awake; this usually led to short make-out sessions until the scene started to kick up again. The inevitable sex scenes were slightly awkward, as Ymir sat there shifting uncomfortably with the reminder of what she had tried to do just an hour earlier, while Christa watched with unfazed contentment.

At one point, the main character’s best friend died in an abrupt tragic car accident, turning the movie’s emotions on high. Ymir glanced down to see tears streaming down Christa’s face, her hands covering her mouth. Although she managed to mask it, Ymir felt herself begin to panic. Christa was what made her happiest, and seeing her upset…. “Hey… It’s just a dumb movie…” she muttered, soothingly rubbing Christa’s shoulder. The little blonde girl attempted to respond but only a choked sob came out of her mouth.  With a sigh, Ymir skirted her thumb across Christa’s lower eyelid. She did the same to the other eye until the tears stopped leaking down her face, and used her hoodie sleeve to wipe away the trails they had made.

“You know, Ymir… You’re really such a sweetheart…” Christa sniffled. Surprise flushed Ymir’s face.

“What? _Hell_ no, I’m-”

“The best girlfriend I could ever ask for.” Christa dried away the remainder of her tears and gazed up at Ymir with a smile. Ymir glanced away, her freckled cheeks pink.

“That’s stupid. Don’t exaggerate.”

Christa cupped Ymir’s chin in her dainty hand and gently turned her face to look at her. “I’m not exaggerating. “Ymir, I have all sorts of boys call me beautiful and ask me out on a weekly basis.” Bitterness jabbed at all corners of Ymir’s body like needles at those words. “Do you know why I turn them down?”

“Because they’re all mindless lardheads that just wanna get into your pants?” Ymir offered with venom in her tone.

“Because _you_ actually love me. You show me in more ways than you know…” Christa’s slim fingers stroked Ymir’s short ponytail. “And I’m in love with you, Ymir. I love you.” She lowered her voice to a caressing whisper. “ _I love you.”_

Ymir’s heart hammered inside her chest. Christa, her perfect Christa… So obviously in love with her _imperfect_ self…. “…babe…” she breathed, at a loss for words. She took Christa’s face in her hands and kissed her; not to occupy herself during a dull moment in the movie, this time, but out of true and unfaltering love for the girl sitting beside her.


	6. Jean/Marco 2: Never Leave Your Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Marco doesn't respond to Jean's texts, he starts getting worried... And soon finds out that he has every right to be.

_Come on, babe, this isn’t funny._

_U haven’t responded all morning, where r u???_

_BABE???_

_Look, Im sorry I didn’t respond, I was sleeping._

_…Marco?_

_Marco, I’m srs, answer me_

Being the self-important, carefree guy that he was, Jean could hardly remember being this worried in his entire life.

Every morning since they started dating (or even since they exchanged numbers), Marco would wake Jean bright and early with a text reading, _“Good morning! :)”_ On this day, however, Jean had accidentally turned his phone on silent, and thus did not hear it go off when it received his boyfriend’s morning greeting. Consequently, he had slept in, missed the bus, and had no choice but to walk to school. Gaping at the time and list of unread messages, he sent _“Sorry babe, slept in”_ while simultaneously tugging on his uniform and popping a breakfast bar in his mouth. 

Marco tended to be exceptionally good at responding to texts in less than 3 minutes, especially when he was excited about a conversation. That being said, Jean routinely slid his phone out of his pocket as he bolted out the door (calling a muffled “See you” to his mother), expecting a response. Nothing. His eyes widened a bit at the unusualness, but decided Marco had either already arrived at school, or ran into someone he knew, or forgot to charge his phone, or _something._ There was no need to panic. Jean popped his earphones in to give a bit of pep to his unwilling trek to the school. No need to panic.

…by the time the first song ended, however, Jean’s composure began to slip away again. It had been nearly 10 minutes since he texted Marco, an _hour_ since he received a text from him. The hell was he doing? Narrowing his eyes, Jean unlocked his phone and sent, _“On my way 2 skool now.”_ Perhaps Marco just hadn’t seen his last message. Surely, he’d notice this one... He sighed deeply as his phone shuffled to the next song, once again reassuring himself that there was nothing crazy or worrying about Marco not answering his texts. He continued walking, habitually checking his phone every few seconds, his heart leaping then immediately sinking as he anticipated a message.

As Jean rounded another corner, sounds of police sirens and honking car horns overpowered the music in his ears. He was met with quite the surprising sight in his normally calm city: crime scene tape marked off an entire section of road, creating a massive backup of traffic. Inside the tape were police cars, an ambulance, and a completely totaled tour bus, crashed into an apartment building. A group of immensely shaken people, mostly elderly, were being led away from said bus by an officer. Hypnotized by the air of adrenaline, Jean’s eyes stayed glued to the scene as he unlocked his phone, went to his conversation with Marco, and sent, _“Bad accident by the school. U kno anything about that?”_ This one. _This_ text Marco would see, and respond to. Jean insisted upon that to himself.

Nonetheless, a good 10 minutes later when he arrived at Sina High and sent 6 more texts to Marco, Jean _still_ received no response. It wasn’t until he was pushing open the school doors that he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. This time, he knew it had legitimately gone off, he wasn’t just imagining it, and he slid the lockscreen and entered in his passcode quicker than lightning. He began to smile in spite of himself. His heart was racing, a thousand possibilities of messages racing through his head: _“Sorry babe, got caught up in something!”_ or maybe _“Oh, okay, I can’t stay mad at you <3” _Anything would do, so long as it was contact from Marco…

_“Yo, Jean, I didn’t do my English last night can I borrow ur notes? Thx man –Connie”_

Jean’s entire body froze, his exhilaration dropping to dull disappointment in the blink of an eye. He began to shake with anger; he groaned and shoved his phone back in his pocket, unintentionally growling, “Where the hell is Marco?!”

His voice had come out louder than he intended, and people stared; amongst those peers were none other than the group of delinquents he sat with in detention. While everyone else returned to their conversations as if nothing happened, those boys abandoned their discussion and instead made their way over to Jean.

“You mean you don’t know?”

Still fuming, Jean’s eyes darted over to the guy that was speaking to him. “Know what?” he asked in total oblivion. He wasn’t aware of his outburst at all.

“Where your little _boyfriend_ is.”

Jean paused, taking a moment to allow his thoughts to rekindle. These boys were surrounding him like a pack of wolves surrounding a crippled, burdening pup, a vicious hunger twinkling in their eyes. Still, the full impact of Jean’s desperation was gradually beginning to dawn on him. So, body tense, he raised a taut eyebrow to signal that he was listening. “…where’s Marco,” he practically growled.

“Dead.”

The word left his mouth so casually, so tritely, that it flew right over Jean’s head. His brain simply couldn’t match the coolness of the boy’s tone with the crippling intensity of the dread behind the word he spoke. It was as if he had never said anything at all, so Jean continued to stand there waiting for a response. This created a brief uproar of laughter amongst the boys that were less than his friends, but unpleasantly more friendly than acquaintances. “Hello? Earth to Kirschtein! Nothing? Dude, your boyfriend’s _dead,_ and you look like you only heard the punchline to a bad joke.”

This time, his words hit their mark to the fullest. A cold despair trickled across Jean’s skin; his stomach clenched into a knot; his heartbeat slurred. “…well, that’s ‘cause this _is_ a bad joke. What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?! That’s not funny!” he choked out.

“Well duh it ain’t funny, Bodt was a nice kid. Saw ‘im in ‘is last moments; held my hand and told me, ‘Please, find Jean, and tell him good-bye. Tell him I _love_ him.’” Although the guy was trying to look at least a little heartbroken, the amusement he was actually feeling gave him the semblance of a snake that just enjoyed a nice meal. His pals snickered, but the furious glare Jean burned into all of them shut them right up.

“Shut the _fuck_ up, you sick BASTARD!” He screamed. “Marco isn’t _DEAD!”_

The group’s leader managed to persist his calm composure. “The bus that hit him would beg to differ.”

That statement caused a blow that knocked the wind right out of Jean. He stumbled back a couple steps, the room spinning. _The bus that hit him…_ He’d seen the accident. Hell, he’d _texted_ Marco about it. He’d seen the shaken people, seen the ambulances… For all he knew, Marco could have been in the back of one of those ambulances, a doctor calling the time at which this freckled young man passed away. The image of Marco, his Marco, broken and bloody, face contorted in pain as his life slipped away… It made Jean nauseas, and he had to cover his mouth as he felt his breakfast start to come back up. “He’s not…. He’s not _dead_ … You fuckin’ liars…. Marco isn’t _dead…”_ he whimpered. Tears began to well up in his eyes and he bit down on the skin of his palm.

“Geez, Jean, what’s got _your_ panties in a twist?” Jean drew blood from his own hand as the very voice that he knew preceded a detention-earning fight spoke behind him, and he clenched his teeth even tighter. He ripped his hand away from his mouth and spun around to see Eren looking at him like he was an ill-talented street performer attempting to make money on the street, his arm around Armin and Mikasa on his heels.

“Get the hell away from me, you piece of shit,” Jean spat, wiping at his eyes though tears continued to fall. Eren blinked, raising his free arm in surrender.

“Hey, I only asked what was wrong. No need to get so-”

“ _MARCO’S DEAD!”_ Jean screamed, loud enough for his voice to reverberate throughout the entire hall and cause everyone to go silent. Eren and Armin exchanged a half concerned, half confused look, their eyes wide.

“Who told you _that?”_ Armin asked.

Jean’s voice caught in his throat. “…these, douche bags…” he answered quietly. He slowly covered his face with his hand as it dawned on him that perhaps it was rather idiotic of him to believe those untrustworthy hooligans. Eren casted them a glare that was intense enough to send them scampering off; well, it was actually the icy gaze Mikasa aimed their way that did the trick, but Eren didn’t know that.

“Yeah, he was in an accident, but he isn’t _dead._ Sent him to the hospital this morning, I saw it,” Eren explained. He paused before adding, “We were the last people he saw before they took him away, in fact... He had asked for you. Woulda texted you, but I don’t have your number and Armin’s phone lost his contacts.”

The pain in Jean’s body throbbed, leaving him numb. He was _almost_ relieved: relieved that Marco was alive, but still terrified that he was hospitalized. “…gimme the hospital. His room, if you’ve got it. Please.”

Armin asked for his phone, which Jean dazedly handed over; he typed the name of the hospital (“It’s the one up the hill from my neighborhood”) into the notes and returned it to him. “Thanks,” Jean replied dully, already heading toward the door.

“Don’t mention it… And don’t worry, Jean. Marco’s going to be fine,” Armin insisted. He smiled gently at him and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he passed. Jean tried to smile at him.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~

A little more than half an hour later, Jean- exhausted from running the entire distance- stumbled through the hospital doors and dragged himself to the receptionist desk. “Marco Bodt… I need to see a… Marco Bodt…” he panted, gripping his side with one hand and the corner of the desk with the other. The receptionist peered over her horn-rimmed glasses at him, her manicured fingers pausing in typing away at her computer.

“Only family is permitted to visit. Who are you?” she demanded.

Jean wiped the back of his hand against his sweaty brow and caught his breath. “I’m his fiancé.” He said these words with more certainty than there was truth behind them. The receptionist’s eyes bulged, her glasses sliding down her nose.

“…room 304, down that hall” she told him hesitantly with a nod, then returned to her computer. Jean nodded and jogged in the direction indicated, ignoring the protest of his aching legs.

“300… 302…” he muttered, his eyes darting from door to door. His eyes widened when they glazed over the number _304,_ written on a silver plaque above a door. He wavered before opening it; not because he wanted to wait any, not even a second _,_ longer before seeing Marco, but because he was afraid of _what_ he would see. He grabbed the doorknob, swallowed his fear, and threw the door open. “Marco!”

It was nearly as awful as Jean had imagined. Marco’s hair was windswept and messy, and not in the cute way like when he overslept and hardly had time to brush it. Drying blood stained various places on his forehead, ear, arms (both of which were bandaged), and even had begun to seep through the blanket. His usually rosy skin was pale, and he sat in a stiff position which made it obvious that moving was painful. This was further proven when he perked up at the sound of Jean’s voice, yet even that slight movement was enough to make his face contort with pain. Nonetheless, he managed a tiny smile. “…Jean…”

“…Marco,” Jean repeated breathily. He closed the door behind him and stumbled to Marco’s bedside. Despite the stinging pain he felt throughout his body at seeing Marco in this condition, there was no denying the immense relief that flooded through him at seeing him _alive._ He wasn’t well, no, but he was _alive…_ “…I was worried as hell,” he murmured, kneeling beside him and taking his hand in his. He hadn’t realized how badly he was shaking until he noticed it quivering against Marco’s still hand. “You _always_ text me back, so I started to panic.”

Marco flashed an acute sad smile. “I’m sorry… My phone fell out of my pocket when I got hit.” His voice was a raspy whisper: another sign of his obvious hurting.

Jean’s eyebrows furrowed. “What even _happened?_ I saw the scene of the accident, but…” He began absently stroking Marco’s hand with his thumb.

“The driver of that tour bus was driving under the influence… I believe they’re currently investigating his case. I had noticed it coming before I crossed the road- you know me, always looking both ways before I cross,” he attempted a silly grin, “but I hadn’t acknowledged just how _fast_ it was going… I’d taken a mere three steps, I think it was, when it came barreling over the crosswalk and drove right into me. I remember hearing a disturbing combination of cracking and squishing, and thinking, _‘I’m going to die.’_ This may have been a dream, but, I saw Armin and Eren… I said _something_ to them, I haven’t the slightest clue what, and then I blacked out…” he explained. He coughed softly afterwards; it had taken a great deal of energy to elucidate that much.

“No, that wasn’t a dream…” Jean answered, slowly shaking his head. “They told me that you had asked for me.” Marco smiled gently and appeared as if he had something to say, but wasn’t able to muster the correct words. “…how bad is it?” Jean asked hesitantly.

Marco took a deep breath (which made him flinch) and paused for a few seconds before answering. He tapped his fingers gently against his legs, counting off all of his ailments. “Well… I have a slight concussion, I’m nearly deaf in my left ear, a couple fractured ribs, nerve damage in my left arm, and…” He hesitated here, his determinedly pleasant expression faltering. “…and the doctor said my leg is may need to be amputated.”

A shuddering breath mixed with a quiet groan of horror left Jean’s lips. “….Jesus Christ, Marco…” Tears jumped into his eyes. He stood upright and brushed the hair away from Marco’s bandaged head as gingerly as he could with his shaking fingers, and pressed a long, soft kiss against his forehead. “…I thought you were dead,” he whispered. Marco’s eyes widened a little in concern. “The guys… Those assholes I hang out with in detention… They said… you’d died…” His voice was beginning to quiver as the tears in his eyes multiplied and slipped down his cheeks.

“Oh, Jean…” Marco murmured sympathetically. “Well, as you see, I’m not dead! So chin up…” With a teensy smile, he tried to give his hand a reassuring squeeze, but immediately cried out in pain.

Jean’s eyes widened in alarm. “Hey, don’t hurt yourself even _more-!”_

The slight smile on Marco’s face softened. “…I love you, Jean.” The tenderness in his tone made Jean’s heart flutter; the sincerity and affection wrapped around those four words made a mysterious warmth glide throughout his body. His immediate response would have been, of course, “I love you, too.” Yet for whatever reason, that was not what left his mouth…

“…why,” he whispered. Marco blinked in mild bewilderment.

“Why what?”

For a moment, Jean wasn’t even sure what he was talking about. “…why do you love me?” he finally concluded. “I’m a douche. I’m selfish, I’m brash, and I don’t have any plans for the future. …and worst of all….” He closed his eyes tightly to lessen the flow of his tears. “I wasn’t even there for you in your time of need.”

A sad sympathy graced Marco’s face. If he could have, he would have lifted Jean’s hand and planted a kiss against it. “But you’re here now, aren’t you? That’s all that matters,” he insisted. Jean bit his lip, glaring down at his lap while his thumb still skirted itself comfortingly across Marco’s hand on its own accord. After a couple moments, Jean snapped his gaze up and met Marco’s gaze.

“I’ll never leave your side again,” he suddenly decided. “I’ll walk you to school, and to all your classes, and home, and never get a detention _again._ Whenever you stay after school, I’ll find a way to stay after too.”  His expression was 100% serious as he vowed these words. Marco listened to him with a surprised expression; once he was done, unmatchable affection seeped into his features.

“You’re so determined… I love that about you, Jean.” He paused. “And I love how you’re not afraid to speak your mind, ever, regardless of what it’ll make people think of you… I love how you’re able to act under pressure, even though you come off as a bum.” He winked teasingly here. “I love how you never beat around the bush for _anything,_ you always get straight to the point… I love how you’re able to differentiate your true friends from the wrong people, and lay your loyalty in the _right_ people. I love how you hold me like you don’t want to let me go, I love how you kiss me like you mean it, I love how you make love to me like I’m truly something special to you…” An embarrassed, but pleasant, blush flushed Marco’s freckled cheeks. “I _love_ you, Jean.”

Jean opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, totally speechless. He had asked Marco why he loved him, and sure enough, he gave him an answer…. An answer that was _more_ than enough. “…I… Damn it, I love _you_ more than anything in the whole damn world,” he uttered, and as a fresh tear rolled down his cheek, he closed his widened eyes and buried his face in Marco’s shoulder.

They stayed like that, their hands entwined and Jean pressing his forehead gently against Marco’s shoulder, for a few more minutes. Finally, Jean sat back up and moved himself to sit on Marco’s bedside. “You look exhausted…” he commented. As if on command, Marco yawned, a tired smile appearing on his face.

“I _am_ exhausted… …Jean? Can you stay with me?” he requested quietly, a cherubic innocence mixed into his expression.

“How unlike you to suggest _skipping school…_ I like it.” Jean grinned, pulling up one of the cushioned (thankfully not plastic) chairs set off to the side for visitors and sliding into it. Marco smiled at him, but it quickly faded and was replaced with a look of concern as he realized something.

“I’ll probably fall right asleep… It’s still only morning, I’m sure you won’t want to sleep yourself… You’ll get so bored,” he worried. The grin remained on Jean’s face, providing some comfort for Marco by itself.

“Please, I can _always_ do with more sleep. ‘Sides, I’m pretty tired myself… Stayed up till 2 watching porn,” he joked. Marco laughed- lightly, so he wouldn’t hurt himself. He closed his eyes, gradually and carefully slipping into a laying down position.

“Mm, you’re too funny…” With those words, the gentle smile slipped off of his lips, and he fell right asleep. Jean’s own grin melted into a soft, hardly visible smile. He gingerly brushed Marco’s hair into place again, and then leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you, Marco… I’m never leaving your side again,” he promised under his breath. Soon, he fell asleep himself, his fingers still wrapped lightly around Marco’s.


End file.
